


1928

by rhiannonsgypsy



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018) RPF, Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: F/M, Spellwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 20:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiannonsgypsy/pseuds/rhiannonsgypsy
Summary: The story of Faustus Blackwood and Zelda Spellman is a long and complicated one. But, for it to be completely understood, we must go back to the very beginning. Back to a time of flapper girls and prohibition, hidden cabaret parties and two rebellious witches set out to rule the Academy.





	1. Chapter 1

Sabrina Spellman had been called into the dean's office. Something that happened quite regularly at the Academy of Unseen Arts as she was constantly finding herself in some kind of trouble. But, today, facing Father Blackwood wouldn't go quite how she'd imagined it.

"Miss Spellman." The man brooded from behind his desk, and the young girl who now stood before him from across the room wondered how he was not in a constant state of strangulation thanks to the cloth of his shirt that always seemed to snake so far up his neck. "Please, take a seat."

Doing a remarkable job of preventing herself from rolling her brown eyes, Sabrina remained quiet as she did what was asked of her. "Now," Faustus cleared his throat, sitting back ever so slightly in his seat, "it's come to my attention that you've been rather..." he searched his vocabulary in search of the most suitable descriptor for Sabrina's recent behaviour, "... _opinionated_ in your choir class, of late."

Now, Sabrina sprung from her seat as a flush of anger rose to her face, about to prove how truly  _opinionated_ she could be. "I  _knew_ it! Aunt Zelda put you up to this,  _didn't_ she?" Father Blackwood was about to raise his own voice to calm the girl's temper, but she continued on her tangent and the man felt it best to simply let her be for the time being. "She  _couldn't_ just let us settle this between ourselves, could she? She just  _had_ to get  _you_ involved!"

As she now clearly awaited an explanation on his part, Faustus raised his hands to calm her and she looked viciously in his direction, disinterested in whatever defense he had on her aunt's behalf. "Your  _aunt_ would  _never_ come to me with a problem concerning your attitude towards this Academy, and I think you know that  _very_ well, young lady." To her credit, Sabrina kept quiet, suddenly intrigued, as she slowly lowered herself back into the seat that she'd occupied mere seconds earlier. "She's far too terrified that you'll get  _yourself_ expelled from this school on your  _own_ , she knows full well that she needn't give me  _more_ reason to do so."

The man sitting behind the desk evoked almost exclusively negative emotions from Sabrina, she didn't trust him for a second. But, even she had to admit that what he said was the truth. "Besides," he continued, toying with the cuff links around his left wrist, "I certainly don't need your  _Aunt Zelda_ to inform me of the goings on at my own Academy. I have eyes and ears everywhere. Which is precisely how I know just how argumentative you've been, lately."

Sabrina narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms defensively. " _Yeah_ , well, I'm a teenager. Aren't I  _supposed_ to be argumentative?"

"Don't be coy with me, girl." Faustus' voice grew stronger, warning Sabrina to bite her tongue and let him say what he needed to say. "I've already told you that I see  _all_ within the school. I know you act just properly in all your other classes. And you never seemed to hate choir when my late wife instructed the class." Though she'd been watching expertly, Sabrina was surprised that she didn't notice even the slightest flinch in his face, body, or voice when mentioning his recently deceased wife. That man's heartlessness would never fail to disgust her. "Now, you understand why I can't have a belligerent student constantly challenging her professor, don't you?"

He was talking down to her, and the glint in his surprisingly light blue eyes told Sabrina that he knew  _exactly_ how much she hated it. Then, she clenched her fists, and let all of the anger and frustration that she felt towards her aunt spew out of her. "It's  _her!_ "

"Who?" Faustus knew precisely  _who_ , but he wanted to see how this might play out.

" _Aunt Zelda!_ " Sabrina stood once more, and began pacing as she ranted. "I just really can't stand her, sometimes! She's just, she's so...  _so_..."

Clearly, a correct definition of the redheaded woman was lost on Sabrina, and Faustus understood that impeccably as he brought a hand to his face and rolled his eyes. "There isn't a word for it." He put an end to the teenage girl's relentless struggle. "Believe me," he mumbled rather under his breath, "I've searched." As much disdain as he had for Sabrina, he had to agree with her on this particular subject.

"Then, you know!" She released her clenched fists and slumped back down into her leather chair. "How do you expect me to  _live_ with her _and_ study under her?" Faustus hadn't even considered that when he'd asked Zelda to begin teaching the choir class. Of course he didn't, he didn't consider such trivial issues as family dramas.

"Quite frankly, I don't care about your and Ms. Spellman's  _personal_ quarrels." Though, he did find them rather amusing.

"I  _know_ you don't." Sabrina sighed in irritation. "She can just be so  _tiresome,_ sometimes." Faustus raised a knowing eyebrow, but said nothing to egg the young girl on. If there was one thing that he didn't need, it was disorder in his classrooms. "I wonder if she's always been that way." Sabrina thought aloud, as a rhetorical second thought.

Before even realizing the questions that his answer might raise, Blackwood took in a sharp breath before adding his possible controversial comment. "for the most part, she has." The only difference, maybe, was the woman's present treatment of  _himself_. Sabrina cocked her head in surprise and looked at him with intrigue, but he didn't meet her eyes. For the moment, the High Priest had his vision fixed somewhere that he wasn't really looking. Instead, some very old memories were infiltrating his senses. "More subdued, maybe, back then, but she'd always been  _Zelda Spellman_."

"Wait, wait, wait..." The young blonde shook her head as she attempted to understand what was going on, "... how long have you  _known_ my aunt?"

Faustus looked back at the girl and composed himself, he'd almost completely forgotten who he was talking to. The truth of the matter was that he hadn't thought about his time spent at the Academy as a student for a nearly eternally long time. "I," he began, before realizing that he didn't really know how long it had been. He'd met Zelda on his very first day at the Academy, which would have been all the way back in the late twenties, "well, it must be close to ninety years, now. Nearly a century." As he spoke the words, a small surprised smile threatened to grace his usually harshly down-turned lips. What a simply time it was back then.

"Wow," Sabrina whispered to herself, letting the information sink in, "that's a long time to know a person."

Faustus nodded, but again neglected to meet her inquiring eyes. "It certainly is."

She couldn't believe that she hadn't considered this circumstance before. She knew full well that both her aunts went to the Academy after their dark baptisms. She also knew that Father Blackwood had attended the school, and that he'd worked closely alongside her own father, Edward Spellman. It would be naive of her to think that Blackwood and her Aunt Zelda's paths had never crossed until the High Priest appeared in Sabrina's parlor to discuss her apprehension about signing the Book of the Beast.

Maybe they were all even  _friends_. Though, she couldn't bring herself to imagine it. Whatever the case was, at the very least, she knew that they knew of each other. She wanted more information. "And," she started, still surprised at the conversation that she was now having with the High Priest of the Church of Night, of all people, "and you  _remember_ her from back then?" Before her statement could be taken the wrong way, she needed to clarify. "No disrespect, sir. But, that was a  _very_ long time ago."

To her surprise, the menacing man began to chuckle lightly following her consternation. "Oh, I remember quite vividly."

"You do?" Sabrina gasped, hoping to Satan that she would get a nostalgic story out of her little encounter with Father Blackwood.

"Of course." He nodded, as if it was ridiculous to think any other way. "I can even remember the very first time I  _saw_ her. Zelda Spellman's always been keen on making herself rather...  _unforgettable_."

"That's..." Sabrina was excited now, she'd always  _longed_ to hear stories of her aunts' younger years, specifically their time at the Academy. But, Zelda would never disclose anything juicy with her and Hilda never wanted to talk about her studies there, as she was nearly harrowed out of her wits, "...  _that's_ incredible." She surely must have made  _quite_ the impression. "What did she look like?"

It didn't take any kind of genius to pick up on the shift in the High Priest's demeanor. Upon hearing Sabrina's latest question, a very specific glint sparked his eyes. Produced undoubtedly by the same feeling that tugged at the corners of his mouth - lust. "Much like she does now, Sabrina." And thank Satan for that, he thought to himself. "Only younger."

" _Really?_ " She's always known that her aunt was wickedly beautiful. Of course, she must have been a glamourous teenaged witch.

"Oh, yes. The same luxurious hair, the same sapphire eyes, and those  _lips_. Praise  _Satan_ for those lips." He was losing himself now, and Sabrina shook her head with a look of sudden disgust on her face. Blackwood could not have cared less. The Dark Lord himself supported _freedom_ and relinquished his followers' weaknesses. If Faustus Blackwood's own weakness came in the form of two thin lips as red as roses, then so be it. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was awfully warm for an early October afternoon. Of course, the outskirts of Greendale could never be trusted when it came to the weather. It was weak - easily manipulated by even the most inexperienced of young witches or warlocks. The courtyard of the Academy of Unseen Arts was as grey and dull as it had been for centuries, but it was alive with students of the coven enjoying the unusually warm weather during their lunch hour. Young Faustus Blackwood had participated in his Dark Baptism the night before, and today found himself thrown into the world of studying the unseen arts. It would have been overwhelming for a mortal student, but for a warlock of his potential, it was exhilarating.

Another young warlock named Consfearacy Tenebris had been giving Faustus the tour of the school when the lunch bell rang, and it was time to tackle the hierarchy of the courtyard. And who sat at the very top of that social pyramid but Zelda Spellman herself. At seventeen years old - in immortal years, of course - she'd only been attending the Academy for a mere year's time, and already she ruled the roost, as mortals tended to say. It was those red lips that caught Faustus' undying attention. The way that they stood out against the contrast of her pale skin and her black clothing made them positively unmissable.

 

There she stood, leaning glamorously against a stone statue across the courtyard, surrounded by a gaggle of babbling witches that seemed to worship her every breath. Apart from the unforgettable ruby red lips, her flawless curls of strawberry hair with hues of gold cascaded down her shoulders. She wore it in such a different way from the other witches' common braids and pigtails. Faustus couldn't see her eyes as they were hidden behind the lenses of dark, circular sunglasses, but he had a feeling that thy were noteworthy.

Now, Faustus Blackwood himself was a man of - sometimes literal - drop dead allure. He'd always been used to having a bevy of fine ladies on his arms and he certainly had no reservations when it came to monogamy. He'd  _never_ before been quite so star-struck in the presence of any witch, and yet there he stood, suddenly unable to breathe. He put a hand up to stop Consfearacy from going on with his tour. "Who is  _that?"_ He managed to breathe out, and Consfearacy followed Faustus' gaze until his own eyes landed on the undoubtedly most popular witch at the Academy.

Nodding with an understanding chuckle, the older boy began an explanation. " _That_ would be Zelda Spellman."

" _Zelda Spellman_." Faustus reiterated, still not yet shaken from his trance. "Now, _there's_ a name that's not to be forgotten."

"Certainly not, she's everyone's  _beloved_."

"Beloved?" He devoured her entire being with his eyes, following her slender arm down to her hand that was covered by a dainty black glove, her rings sitting on the outside of it. Between two of her delicate fingers, she held a lit cigarette.

"They either love her, or love to  _hate_ her. But, I  _promise_ you, you won't find a single student or faculty member at this Academy that doesn't have a  _passionate_ opinion on her."

"And suitable so." Faustus muttered under his breath, consumed by this  _Zelda Spellman_ that he'd now lain eyes on for the very first time. The tight black shirt that she wore allowed him to appreciate the impeccable figure that the young witch possessed. With small silver buttons travelling up and down the seams of the shirt, her delicious curves could not be ignored. And it was thanks to the band of her short black velvet circle skirt that her preciously tiny waistline made itself common knowledge.

She wore a black choker around her fair neck, a dark gemstone at its centre as well as a silver necklace with a thin crescent moon charm at the end of it that settled right between her ample bosom. That, paired with the polished silver earrings that hung from her hears. He knew better than to assume that  _any_ of those pieces of jewelry  _weren't_ charmed or enchanted with different spells.

That was one thing that the concupiscent young warlocks appreciated about coven fashion - it was very different from that of the mortal world. Across town, the female students of Baxter high wore thick stockings to prevent the young men from seeing their  _ankles_. Satan forbid. But  _here_ , it was very much different. Bear in mind, the Dark Lord does not punish his disciples for being promiscuous in any way. What is a sin to the False God is merely an asset to the Dark Lord.

Following his gaze down her long legs that were covered by nothing more than a thin, sheer, black pantyhose, Faustus' eyes fell upon a pair of flat black shoes that came to a point at the very end of her toes. Those shoes looked like they might be able to impale someone right through the heart. And he got the feeling that it was  _precisely_ why she wore them.

 

"Hey," Consfearacy placed a hand on his new friend's shoulder when he realized what kind of ideas the boy must have been getting, "don't even bother trying to figure her out, friend. She's nothing short of a perfect enigma, that one."

"Any good warlock likes puzzles, my friend." Faustus reassured him, with a sly raise of his dark eyebrow.

"No, I'm telling you. Her reputation is more like a witch's web than anything."

"In what way?" He responded in disbelief, she couldn't have been all  _that_ complicated, could she?

"Well, for one, just look at her out here. She's the high priestess of utter  _chaos_. She looks down her nose at anyone and everyone, she's conjured up an entire army of  _slightly_ less attractive but well-known witches to form her gang of minions and adoring slaves. With one  _look_ she can seduce even the most disconnected of warlocks, she's the  _queen_ of all harrowings that take place at this Academy, she -"

" _Harrowings?_ What in Satan's name is a  _harrowing_ _?"_ Faustus interrupted to clarify.

"It's something that  _you_ likely won't have to worry about."

"And why might that be?"

"Because, it's something that the bitchy witches like  _her_ do here when they manage to sink their claws into a more vulnerable student. It's an equivalent to the mortals'  _hazing_."

"Ah," Faustus nodded his head in understanding, "I see. And why wouldn't I need be subject to it?"

"Because, well, just look at you, brother!" Consfearacy laughed, it was a stupid inquiry. "You look like you could asphyxiate someone with a single look!"

"Not yet, but maybe someday!"

"Truer words, Blackwood! Never spoken!" Suddenly, another - lesser known - figure caught Consfearacy's attention. "Oh, see there?" He pointed to a witch who sat only in the company of one other girl off to the side of the courtyard. The drapery that she wore did nothing to flatter her figure and she hid any and all beauty on her timid face behind the thick frames of her glasses. "That's Zelda's younger sister. Believe her name is Tilda, or Hildy, or something of the likes."

" _That's_ her  _sister?"_

"Hard to believe, ain't it?" The two arrogantly charming warlocks shared a knowing laugh. "Anyways, she's been harrowed worse than just about anyone I've seen here."

"Harrowed? You mean..." Faustus began, but felt wrong delivering the accusation.

"Yes, Zelda harrows her own  _sister."_

" _Hmm,"_ Faustus nodded in trivial consternation. "So, she lacks an attachment to familiar ties." He grinned devilishly, she was  _just_ his type. "I do so like that in a woman."

"That's where the enigmatic aspect of it all plays in, though. While she's an utter demon socially-wise, she's the top of every class. She's well on her way to graduating early with  _honours_. It baffles me how she can manage to be such a  _mean girl_ around the Academy while still being such a choice academic front-runner."

"Well, there's nothing more  _evilly_ charging than working your way towards becoming a master of the dark arts." Faustus added.

"I suppose not. It is funny, though, she would never allow the other students at this school to look down on her in any way, she likes to be at the top. But, when it comes to the renowned professors and  _especially_ the High Priest, she's reduced to the likes of a mouse."

"It can't be." Faustus shook his head, looking back towards the witch who was now taking a drag of her cigarette and flipping a stray lock of hair off her shoulder. "A woman like  _that_ couldn't come close to such a timid creature even if she  _tried_." That's as may be, but it was then and there that Faustus Blackwood decided that he simply  _had_ to become the High Priest of the Church of Night.

"Precisely why it's such a wonder. She worries ever so badly that she'll disappoint the High Priest, that she'll let him and the Dark Lord down in some way. I shouldn't think I've ever met anyone with such high concern for how she's  _seen_ by others as she."

"Alright," The younger of the two boys shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. All the talk about this enigmatic young witch was tying unwanted knots in his stomach, "enough about  _Zelda Spellman_. I think I'll try my luck with someone  _easier_ to get."

It was then that Zelda herself had  _finally_ set her gaze upon Faustus Blackwood. He walked in her general direction, but it was clear that he was about to bypass her complete without so much as a glance in her direction. Little did she know that he did it fully on purpose. He'd looked at her long enough for the time being, he could afford to keep his composure as he passed by her. A witch like that needed to be put in her place someone, and he thought he knew precisely how he might do so. He'd be damned if he let it be known that he was just as obsessed with her as everyone else at the Academy was. And it would drive her mad.

As for Zelda, well... she shouldn't think that she'd ever seen such a warlock before. Tall, dark, handsome, and  _positively_ brooding.  _Just_ her type. Although, it would help if he would just  _look_ at her. The burn that she felt as he passed by her and utterly ignored her was something that she assumed could be compared to what the Greendale Thirteen went through as they were hanged and burned. She slowly removed the dark sunglasses from her nose with her free hand, and  _just_ before he left her vicinity, he  _finally_ allowed their eyes to meet. It was in that moment that they were both glad that  _feelings_ could not be seen. Because, if the fireworks that had been produced were seen by anyone else in the courtyard, it would have been nothing short of mortifying for the both of them.

Faustus smirked when he noticed her staring, but couldn't help but wonder if meeting her eyes was so smart of him. When they were separated by the physical barrier of dark sunglasses, it was a much safer environment. Because, now that he'd looked into her oceanic blue eyes, there was positively no going back. It got so bad, that he considered using a forgetting spell on himself to erase the memory of those few minutes he'd allowed himself to be enthralled by her.

"Who is  _that?"_ Zelda spoke aloud to her minions, not addressing any in particular. She knew one would answer.

"You mean  _Mr. Darkness_ over there?" Her devoted follower Alice Crane answered from behind her, flipped a braid over her shoulder as she spoke, clearly as enticed by the charm of whomever the young warlock was as Zelda herself was. "Don't know. New guy, maybe?"

"Whoever he is, he looks like trouble." Desmalda Hornsby piped up from Zelda's right side.

Zelda, who just smiled and tossed her cigarette butt on the ground, arresting the flame with the bottom of her shoe, couldn't help but continue to stare in the direction of the handsome newcomer. "I  _adore_ trouble."

 

The days would continue to pass by, and life at the Academy persisted as per usual. During the daytime, the students attended their classes and studied to their greatest abilities, content on mastering the unseen arts. At lunchtime, they were shoved out into the courtyard that was better suited to the likes of a jungle watering hole. And Zelda Spellman was undoubtedly the queen of the jungle. Each week, she selected a new victim and harrowed them with her crew of gargoyle-like followers until they went mad. All the while, Faustus Blackwood sat with a different witch each day and took them into his bed by night.

Everyone had a vice. Witches, warlocks, and mortals alike.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> watch https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hs0501U5gw0

Once you witness a Baxter Raven's house party, you might think that you've seen it all. But, the truth is, that if you wandered just a bit too far into the Greendale woods and came across the Academy of Unseen Arts, you'll experience an entirely new kind of celebration. On the weekends, when the faculty goes home and only the dean and the janitors remain, the students meet in the basement while the High Priest turns a blind eye. In a room that is often filled with various forms of smoke, music that is far too loud for this particular century, and clothing that is entirely  _optional_ , the students of the Academy gather in their own private speakeasy cabaret setting to defy everything that the prohibition stands for.

Well,  _certain_ students. There are those who choose to remain in bed at an appropriate time, catching up on their studies, reading a book or two, and calling it a night. And that's perfectly fine. It meant more room for the students who  _really_ needed to be down there in the basement, cutting loose in the way that every teenage being on earth can relate to.

Underage drinking, getting high, stripping down and heading into a closet with whomever they so please, the basement was  _certainly_ where Zelda Spellman and Faustus Blackwood spent their Friday nights. How they still managed to constantly compete for the highest marks in the Academy was a wonder to everyone. The first time that Faustus attended a legendary Academy party was after about a week of his attendance, once the other students finally deemed him worthy. The roaring twenties were upon them, and down in that basement underneath the prestigious school, that was clearer than ever.

Blackwood had been going to parties since his early teenage years, he was far from a stranger to the world of illegal substances and activities that the False God would have labelled  _sins_. It was times like tonight that he thanked his unlucky stars that he chose to worship the Dark Lord.

Wandering through the hazy room, it became clear that the students at the Academy only got more and more complicated. Because, the quiet boy who sat behind him in crucifixion class was now in an all out brawl with some greaser in one corner of the room, the girl he knew from his choir class who always dressed modestly and spoke reservedly was barely wearing a shirt at all as she leaned expertly over a pool table and closed one eye to take the winning shot. Two older year warlocks that he recognized as undeniable teachers' pets in every class were sitting around a table passing a pipe between the two of them that must have contained some kind of hallucinogenic. And who was dead-set in the centre of the chaos yet again but Zelda Phiona Spellman.

Dressed in a sleek deep purple gown that seemed to glitter with every move she made, Zelda was surrounded by her usual minions - a group of fawning witches all dressed in the flapper clothes that even some mortals sometimes dared to wear after dark. The fact that Faustus Blackwood wouldn't keep his eyes off her really meant nothing, every warlock and most of the witches in that room found themselves in a similar state of enchantment by Miss Spellman. After the jazzy music overrode his senses and he nearly spaced out completely, Faustus felt a familiar hand clap his shoulder. "Blackwood!" Consfearacy Tenebris spoke good-naturedly. "Glad you could make it, friend!" Faustus raised his eyebrows in response as his friend continued, "So, what do you think?"

"What do I  _think?"_ Blackwood looked around himself once more, his eyes yet again falling on the woman in violet. "I  _think_ that everyone seems to be participating in  _delicious_ sins." He bit his bottom lip and downed a shot of whatever now resided in the cup in his hand. "Which is  _precisely_ what the Dark Lord intended." A cheer erupted following his positive response, he hadn't even realized that there had been a small gathering of young witches and warlocks feverishly awaiting his answer.

It didn't take long at all for the young warlock to catch up with his fellow students, thanks to various intoxicating substances that were given to him, and within an hour, he found himself leaning against the bar, pressed up against a blonde witch as they practically shoved their tongues down each other's throats. Teenaged boys never changed. Be them mortals or warlocks, they were all the same. Jacked up on hormones that were emboldened by the abuse of illicit substances. It was when he heard a laugh ringing through the chaotic room of festivities that Faustus pulled away from the girl whose name he didn't even know and searched the room for the source of the glorious laughter.

Of course, there were many cases of laughing students about the room, they were at a party, after all, laughter was a key ingredient. But, this specific laugh nearly arrested his heart, and he had no idea why. It was positively beautiful, and that was a word that warlocks like Faustus Blackwood didn't throw around often. It rang out like a hellish bell with a raspy finish, and all he wanted to do was put a face to the sound. When he finally saw the wide smile that produced the laughter, he realized that he wasn't even surprised. He should have known that his attention had yet again been enslaved by Zelda Spellman.

What  _did_ surprise him, however, was the absolute carelessness on her face. If what he'd heard and seen was true, she cared more about her appearance than anyone he'd ever met before. She remained as cool and steady as stone, harshness on her face and radiating through her body. But, as her face now warped into a  _perfect_ smile that in turn made her eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky, she didn't appear to have a care in the world. She looked juvenile, she appeared positively  _joyful_ , and that was unlike her. In fact, she was having the time of her life as her friends tried to drag her up onto the small stage in the middle of the room that had been serving all night long as karaoke central for all the young witches and warlocks who enjoyed singing a bit of jazz on the side.

Her ginger hair bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head in refusal, though the laugh that continued to project from her blood-red lips told anyone who was paying attention that she might just be persuaded. "Hey," Faustus whipped his head back around upon hearing the demanding voice of the witch he'd been getting hot and heavy with. He'd forgotten all about her, and she could tell, "come on." she said softly, leaning back towards him in hopes of continuing their previous activities. Much to her disappointment, he shook his head and turned away from her, provoking an understandably frustrated response from the girl.

"Faustus Blackwood, you  _tease."_ She shouted as he grinned and walked away, he'd been called worse things. "You'll regret walking away from me! I'll  _hex_ you!" Now, Faustus only chuckled silently. He didn't know her name, but he'd seen her in their enchantment class. She couldn't cast a spell on a  _rat_ , let alone a fellow immortal.

In fact, he knew that he would  _not_ regret walking away from her. Because, had he not, he never would have made his way back towards where his warlock friends stood, and then he wouldn't have had an optimal view of what was now happening on the stage. Based on the songs that the mortals sang in this day and age and based on the classical music that the choir classes at the Academy practiced, Faustus certainly wasn't expecting what he heard. Zelda Spellman did not stand on stage and use her soprano voice to sing an operatic ballad, no. Instead, he heard the voice that undoubtedly paired nicely with the laugh.

It was real, it was clear, it was  _raw,_ and it was positively alluring. There was nothing appropriate or classical about it, not at all. She stood there in all her glory,  _belting_ out a song as a fiddler picked up the background behind her. It wasn't proper in the slightest, and based on what he'd been told, Faustus knew Zelda to never be anything but proper. Even her mistreatment of the other students was practically endorsed by the Academy.

And, though he'd never heard her sing in choir, he was fairly damn certain that she sounded nothing like  _this_ when she knew she needed to compose herself. It was sinfully  _delightful_ to see it in action, everyone seemed to agree. Because it was  _Zelda Spellman_ , the most popular, beautiful, and intelligent witch at the Academy, the crowd grew as she took the stage and people rushed to catch a glimpse of everyone's favourite heroine. The other students clapped and hollered words of encouragement and enjoyment as she sang her almost country-like song straight into the cardioid microphone, projecting her voice to all corners of the room.

She laughed and she sang and she smiled wider than Faustus had ever seen her smile before. Mainly, because he had been under the impression that she  _didn't_ smile. And yet, here she was. She should have been completely out of her element, she should have sat down and smoothed out her dress and composed herself, ordering one of her followers to get her another drink as she lit up a smoke. It was because of the spectacle that was her impromptu karaoke session that Faustus Blackwood realized that witches were not always as they seemed. There are many sides to a witch just as there are many sides to an acuron configuration. He also decided in that moment, that he simply  _had_ to have her. He wasn't a warlock who did  _commitment_ or  _meaningful_ , he was someone who did  _conquests_. And Zelda Spellman? Now, she was a conquest.


	4. Chapter 4

Faustus Blackwood had risen to the top quicker than the smoke of a well tended to flame. He'd been at the  Academy for only half a semester but he was already leading the pack. He was the top in every one of his classes, he was recognized pristigiously by all the respected faculty members, he solved puzzles that no one else could solve, he excelled in just about anything that had to do with the dark arts, and he was perfectly devoted to the Dark Lord and the Church of Night.

All the while, his popularity among the students was skyrocketing. He was charismatic, cunning, and utterly handsome. Thus allowing him to make easy friendships as well as cast a spell on nearly any young witch who looked his way. As far as he was concerned, he was living better than every before. But, unbeknownst to him, that was quite possibly all about to change.

He'd gotten himself into a bit of trouble. Now, Faustus had always been a natural troublemaker and a rebellious bad boy just for kicks, but he'd never been  _caught_ before. But, today, on a dry February afternoon, the young Blackwood boy was on the verge of facing some serious consequences. He'd been out in the middle of the Greendale Woods surrounding the western side of the Academy with Consfearacy and a few other warlocks that were pleased to help him get up to no good. There was a problem, and that problem was that Faustus' grades had been slipping in his alchemy class thanks to all the late nights he'd been spending recently with various witches in his bedchambers. And therefore, he was attempting to do something about it.

Though he lacked extensive knowledge concerning alchemy, he certainly excelled in his conjuring class. And alas, he was now in the forest at dusk attempting to trap a demon that he'd conjured earlier in the day. Him and his warlock companions had attempts to conjure a simple memory-snatching demon that was going to wipe all of his absences and failed alchemy tests from the memory of his professor and that would be that. Instead, they had managed to summon a very nasty higher demon who was far more dangerous than they'd hoped.

Instead of simply reversing the conjuration, it became clear to them that they were going to have to trap it in some kind of configuration - which they, of course, did not have. Quite frankly, they weren't even sure how to do that. But, the demon was belligerent and threatening, and if the situation got any worse, they knew that, for the sake of all witch-kind, they were going to have to go to the High Priest of the Academy to aid them in trapping this angry spirit.

That was precisely when a Hell-sent miracle arrived in the form of a familiar young woman. "You're doing that wrong!" She shouted over the quarreling voices of the several warlocks attempting in vain to use their powers to get the demon under control. The warlocks turned their heads to see a slender, redheaded witch sitting sophisticatedly upon a purely black horse, her hair blowing in the wind that they were creating with their chanting.

The rest of the gang looked towards Faustus, as he was their leader, for guidance. He waved them on, "Keep going!" He shouted, before stepping away from their circle and letting them continue without him as he clenched his fists and approached the witch on the steed. " _Miss Spellman,_ if you're so  _keep_ on discrediting our attempts, then what might  _you_ do in this situation?" He spoke harshly, rolling his pale blue eyes as she stared at the chaos that he'd created. Why she always had to act so high and mighty, Faustus would never know. But, he certainly didn't appreciate it.

Zelda tossed her hair over her shoulder and shook her head, swinging her leg up and around the rose to find herself on solid ground once more. She looked Faustus in the eye as she pulled off the black riding gloves that she wore. "First and foremost,  _Mr. Blackwood,"_ she mimicked the tone that he'd taken with her, proving that she could match him much easier than he'd hoped, "standing there and chanting in an attempt to ward off the demon will only anger it more." She rolled her own eyes at his foolish arrogance and turned back towards the horse, pulling a golden lidded vase out of her crimson red saddle bag. "you need to  _trap_ it, you can't just shout at it and hope it goes away!" She raised her voice so that she could be heard over the relentless chanting and whirling winds.

Moving right past Faustus with a determined spring about her step, Zelda walked right up to the demon, her hair and coat blowing wildly, held out the open vase, chanted an intricate spell that pulled the demon right into the vase, and then clasped the lid tightly shut, stopping all chaos in its tracks. The warlocks were positively stupefied, also  _insanely_ turned on. "Now," Zelda began with a bit of sarcastic pep, "if I had any sense at all, I would report you  _all_ to the High Priest and he'd have you expelled from the Academy immediately." With those words, Blackwood's friends all took off running, knowing that they needed to get the hell out of there before Zelda recognized their faces and names. She knew it would send them fleeing, and perhaps somewhere deep down, she'd voiced her threat for the altruistic purpose of getting a moment alone with Faustus Blackwood.

Brushing a stray curl away from her face, she finally turned around to face the man in black who was now leaning against her horse with a smirk on his insufferable face. "Well, Miss Spellman... that was -"

"Impressive, I know." Zelda said, filling in the blacks rather nonchalantly as she walked towards him, clasping the vase in her hands.

"Incredibly pretentious of you." Faustus deadpanned, he wasn't about to let this witch get the better of him.

Zelda now stopped in her tracks and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I  _beg_ your pardon?" She demanded, no one spoke to her with such impertinence around here.

"You couldn't just let us do what we needed to do? You  _had_ to step in and save the day yourself. You're worse than they say you are." He was truing to find an insecurity, and she knew that full well. Luckily, Zelda knew precisely what was said about her around the Academy, and she couldn't care less. She was simply happy to be discussed.

She walked straight up to him and shoved the vase into his clawed hands. "Bury it." She muttered, before looking him sharply in the eyes and moving towards her horse to get back in the saddle. "And, for the record, I do believe I'm owed a gesture of gratitude, at the  _very_ least. I just saved your career, reputation, and potentially even your  _life_ , Mr. Blackwood."

Faustus rolled his eyes and turned around to gently place his hand on her arm before she could lift herself back onto her horse. She was right, and he knew it. He sighed and she looked on expectantly, knowing that he was trying his utter hardest to come up with some kind of apology. "I suppose I do owe you, Miss Spellman."

"Damn straight, you owe me."

Suddenly, Faustus was graced with an idea. The perfect segue into how he might manage to get this woman into bed with him. "Perhaps," he lowered his voice as lust clouded his eyes and he took a step closer to her, backing her right up against the horse that stood unmoving. Zelda stared at him, unsure of what might happen next. Anyone with eyes could see that she wanted him just as badly as he desired her, but for some reason, she lacked her usual confidence when coming face to face with him. Why could he manage to render her so speechless? Zelda held her breath as the tall warlock towered over her and continued, "we can agree upon a form of  _gratitude_ that might be enjoyable for the both of us?" It was quite clear to her what he was referring to, but she'd be damned if she let him get to her that easiler. Sure, Zelda wasn't known for being reserved with her sexuality, but there was something about this young Blackwood warlock that gave her a different feeling. A feeling that needed to be fully investigated before she acted on it.

"Yes, I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you?" She said, her own low voice rather husky in a way that made Faustus smirk. "Unfortunately, I have a more propitious idea." She leaned away from him, knowing full well how much of a provocative tease she was being, before swiftly lifting herself onto her horse and settling back into the saddle. "Be in the potions lab tomorrow during the lunchtime period."

 

*****

 

Intrigued by his encounter the previous day, Faustus did as he was told - for fear of what kind of havocs Zelda Spellman might wreak upon him should he disobey her direct wishes. He was surprised to stumble upon the witch herself sitting in a plastic chair before a gathering of several other witches and warlocks, with a  _Christian_ book in her hands. Wondering just  _what_ kind of secret mutiny he had discovered, Faustus hung back, leaning against the doorway to hear what exactly she had to say.

"See here, how the page numbers go straight from number six hundred and sixty-five to six hundred and sixty-seven?" Zelda held out the book and pointed to the page numbers with her gloved hands. "Now, why might that be?" She spoke rather facetiously, as if she was talking down to the very religion of Christianity itself. Faustus knew that the other shoe was about to drop, and he was therefore quite relieved that Zelda was not secretly practicing Christianity within the very walls of the Academy of Unseen Arts.

"Because, triple sixes is the Devil's number." A brunette witch with heavy glasses spoke up eagerly, as if she'd just solved the answers of the universe.

Zelda rolled her eyes, " _Yes,_ but  _why_ can't it label a page in this book of Christianity?" She looked about the room, but there was silence. Everyone was far too afraid of her to risk getting the answer wrong. Faustus himself had an opinion on her question, but he was just as afraid of her as her gathering of  _friends_ was. "Because," she snapped, "Christian followers have such  _little_ faith in their False God that they are afraid of a mere  _number_ _."_

Now, the other students gasped and talked amongst themselves, considering the careful point that Zelda had made and just how true it had been. Finally, her eyes snapped over to the threshold, where she spotted a familiar figure lingering in the doorway. "Now, she spoke, "if you'll excuse me, it would appear that there is a  _recklessly audacious_ warlock in need of my attention." Faustus rolled her eyes as she continued to chastise him about what had happened in the woods the other day and he wondered if perhaps she might continue to do so as long as they knew each other. But, the teasing look that he caught in her eyes as she got closer to him told him that it was all in good fun.

" _Really_ , Zelda?" He arched an unimpressed eyebrow in her direction, but there was a small smirk on his lips. "You're preaching against me to your crowd of minions, now?" Quite frankly, he was just glad to hear her talking about him. He knew full well that he always had a lasting affect on women - even the strongest of young witches like Zelda Spellman.

"Oh, you only  _wish_ that I'd waste that much effort keeping  _your_ name on  _my_ lips." She taunted back, and Faustus found it suddenly attractively refreshing to encounter a witch who might have been melting for him behind her defenses, but kept her composure and managed to challenge him in ways that he'd never experienced before.

Deciding that it would be uncharacteristic for him to neglect attempting to swoon her right onto his bedsheets, Faustus leaned over her ever so slightly and maintained that glorious eye contact between the two of them. "Perhaps, I could suggest something better than simply my  _name_ to grace your lips, hmm?"

Zelda felt her knees go weak, but she was no  _idiot,_ so she only scoffed at his ridiculously lowered voice. "As I said," she raised her own eyebrows, "simply  _audacious_."

Knowing full well that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her for the time being, Faustus rolled his eyes and stood up straighter, following her to the other side of the room as she walked away from him. "Alright, Zelda." He rolled up the sleeves on his grey button-down shirt, clearly not a far on the heat in the room. He'd much rather be enjoying his free hour outside in the cold with nearly every other sensible witch and warlock on campus. "Enough games, what am i doing here?"

That woman was trying his patience, and suddenly Faustus wondered if his shallow attraction to her beauty and reputation was merely a front, hiding how much he truly despised her. Or, perhaps, it was the other way around. He truly had no idea, which was why he grew so frustrated about it. He  _always_ knew just what he wanted and he  _always_ knew just how to get it. He couldn't stand the confusion. "Patience, Faustus." Zelda said with her back towards him as she gathered up a few stray pieces of paper from a nearby desk.

"You're a bright woman, you must know just how  _busy_ I am around here." His tone had grown agitated, which was why Zelda spun around to face him once more. "If you think for one second that I have a minute to spare for your  _trying_ antics, then you are quite mistaken." As he spoke, she stared at him, but did not feel as though he deserved any kind of verbal response. "Now, you might believe that just because you are  _Zelda Spellman_ , that  _I_ will follow in everyone else's footsteps and bow at your feet. But, you'll find yourself  _incorrect._ Because I, unlike them, am not  _afraid_ of you." He might have been stretching the truth, but at least he did not waver in speaking his lie.

Had it been anyone else, they might have begun to cower before him and beg forgiveness from the undeniably evil warlock, but instead, Zelda breathed out a dry laugh. "And  _you_ might be expecting  _me_ to go weak before you and run from your empty threats and demonic challenges. But, unfortunately for your weak, misogynistic superiority complex, I'm not afraid of you either, Faustus Blackwood." And it was in that very moment that Faustus realized he'd never before met anyone like Zelda Spellman. "But, fear ye not. I believe that what I'm about to do for you might bring you some dark satisfaction. Maybe even a bit of  _hope_." There was something devious about the way that she spoke, but Faustus was all ears. He raised his eyebrow, wondering in what way his life was about to change.

"Just what do you have planned for me, Miss Spellman?" He spoke warily, knowing full well what the witch was capable of.

"I'd like for you to meet my brother, Edward Spellman." She smiled thinly, and he looked at her with a question in his eyes. When he remained confused, Zelda nodded in gesture behind Faustus. He turned to see a young man standing behind himself. He was shorter than Faustus, he looked maybe a few years younger. "Edward," Zelda began rather warmly, moving towards the taller warlock and placing a hand on his arm, "this is Faustus Blackwood. He's the top warlock at the Academy, he has quite the aptness for the dark arts and I think he'd made a rather suitable mentor for you."

Faustus was taken aback by her forwardness, he was certain that he'd agree to nothing of the sort. But, before he could argue, Zelda left his side and moved to whisper in her younger brother's ear. "Now, return to the courtyard and finish up your break. Leave me to the convincing." She pulled back from the younger boy and gave him a reassuring wink, before Edward nodded with a smile and left the room. She knew that Faustus was on the verge of verbally chastising her for making such an assumption, and before he could do so, she remained where she was, with her back to him, and watched her brother leave the room. "If you're wondering why he seems to juvenile, it's because he was deemed such a young genius that the Dark Lord himself requested that his Dark Baptism was expedited by three years so that he could begin studying prematurely at the Academy's higher level classes."

While that was impressive, Faustus remained unchanged. "I have no interest in wasting my time teaching a pre-adolescent warlock, Zelda!" He shouted in order to get his point across. Zelda whirled around to face him once more, her red hair bouncing upon her shoulders. "What in  _Satan's_ name would make you believe otherwise?"

" _Because,"_ She matched his tone and stepped towards him, "you love  _power_. In fact, it might be the  _only_ think that you love."

"Now, what is  _that_ supposed to mean?" Faustus interrupted harshly, but Zelda only moved closer so as to silence him.

"I am  _not_ finished!" Zelda snapped, a threatening look in her eyes. "You have no  _idea_ how brilliant my brother is. And I know full well that you're unequivocally adept yourself, which is why  _together_ , you could gain a status close to that of the Dark Lord, even! Without question, you'd both be in the running for a future High Priest, which is  _why_ you're here, is it not?" Zelda spoke words that made sense in Faustus' mind, words that he so desired to hear. Which is why, as she stepped so close to him, he allowed himself to get lost in her stunning eyes. "You'd be the most  _powerful_ warlock far and wide, Faustus." She lowered her voice, feeding in to the desire in his eyes. "And I know just how much you so desire  _power."_ Her voice was but a whisper as she finished, mere  _inches_ from pressing up against his tall body with her own.

Faustus was finished arguing. She was right, about it all. "Perhaps," He whispered down to her, taking her left fair cheek into his hand, tangling his fingers in her soft hair, "there is something that I desire even more than  _power."_

Zelda lifted a hand and placed it on his chest, if not for any specific reason other than preventing her own knees from giving out beneath her. Faustus Blackwood might have been the only man she'd encountered who challenged her, who made her feel like she couldn't walk all over him and have him fall at her feet. Which is precisely how  _she_ made  _him_ feel. And perhaps that was why the spark between them could no longer be ignored.

"Faustus..." she whispered, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly as his free hand snaked its way around her waist.

" _Zelda..."_ was all he managed to speak before Faustus' immense desire got the better of him and he was tilting her face upwards and allowing their lips to meet for the very first time in their lives.

From there, they pushed their way through the school, heading towards Zelda's private bedchamber, their lips only leaving each other when it was absolutely necessary. And once her door was closed behind them, the rest was history.


End file.
